"Cis, you must rise," she cried; "’tis disgraceful. All the world is stirring. Even Ralph and Captain Protheroe are abroad, I have just seen them go down the garden together." "Plague take you all for a set of fools," cried Cicely sleepily; "what should they want out at this hour o’ the morning?" "Why, Cis, ’tis heavenly." With a deep sigh Cicely relented. "Well, Bab, I will come. But not one step do I take without some breakfast, so bid Phoebe prepare it." And with that Barbara must perforce be content. Yet she herself would wait for no breakfast, but snatching up her hat, ran into the garden to drink in the joys of the bright September morning. Full speed she ran down the garden, and there came to a sudden halt, remembering with a pang of remorse that she had not yet greeted Butcher since her return. So, with intent to free him to join in her ramble, she turned into the copse, a short cut to the stables. But there she again came to a pause, puzzled at the sounds which reached her ears. "Now, what in Heaven’s name——" Then she ran through the copse at fullest speed, for of a sudden she divined what was passing beyond, and with a loud cry darted into the open meadow, and ran towards the two men who were thus engaged in the settlement of their quarrel. At sudden sight of her, Captain Protheroe leapt quickly back out of his opponent’s reach and lowered his swordpoint, at the same moment Barbara seized Sir Ralph’s arm. She seized his arm, but her eyes were fixed on Captain Protheroe in wide-eyed indignation and reproach. "Oh! This is too much," she gasped; "you might have killed him." The possibility of Ralph killing the captain had not entered her head, but the insult and the compliment went unheeded by each. They thought only of the anxiety implied in her words. "This must end now, forever," she continued firmly; "Captain Protheroe, ’tis for you to apologise." "Madame!" "Certainly, sir, you are in the wrong." He stared at her in wonder. "Do you know the cause of our quarrel, Mistress Barbara?" he asked doubtfully. "Assuredly," she answered in surprise, for she deemed it but the consummation of the quarrel she had interrupted on Sedgemoor. "Assuredly. I am of one mind with Ralph in this matter; he is in the right, and you have been mistaken." Slowly the light of hope died in the captain’s eyes, and left there only a great yearning. He drooped his head for one long minute in silence, then drew himself up and slowly sheathed his sword. "Yes," he said quietly; "I have been mistaken." Then he turned to Barbara, and his voice was full of tenderness. "Mistress Barbara," he said, "a man should not be blamed, if having once looked on heaven he become blind to things of earth. Forgive me the mistake. In this, in all things, I remain ever your devoted servant. Your happiness is mine, I—I am content." He turned and walking slowly out of the meadow, disappeared amongst the trees.